The Real Story of Zosan
by remesy
Summary: My observations of these two characters and how they've developed their relationship from pre-timeskip to post-timeskip. I think this is how the story goes from a realistic point of view.


Note: Please note that I am not trying to say this is exactly how it went. Most of the parts are due to my imagination, observation as well as analysis, and I would love to know how you'd interpret their interactions. There are parts that will obviously be made up, but hopefully it makes sense on how I filled in the blanks between the canon stories.

Anyways, this is a small time off from "Karma," but I've had this idea spontaneously and wanted to write it out. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Baratie Arc_

It was all still new to him.

The rubber kid who could stretch his arms out and bloat his stomach to the size of a hot air balloon, the suspicious red haired navigator who had a habit of stealing and manipulating, and the long nosed liar who boasted about his thousand men at sea when, in fact, he had just been a leader of a kid's gang. And now there is this womanizing idiot who turns to mush at every woman in sight; though, even he had to admit the food was fucking delicious.

He was almost in awe seeing the hearts appear in the blond's eyes when the navigator gave him a hug, as a gratitude for the free food she had coyly drawn out of him.

_A bunch of weirdos_, Zoro thought, not knowing how weird it could truly get after entering the Grand Line.

On the other hand, Sanji hardly took notice of the green haired man sitting amongst the long nosed man and the cute red haired girl, whom he believed was called Nami. Despite the fact that she was flirting with him to get free food out of him, he didn't mind because food did not equate in value with money. Only he and Zeff knew this, to the core of their beliefs, as the bag of gold was truly useless when faced with their starvation.

Not that Nami was starving, she was just beautiful and Sanji had a weak spot for beautiful women!

Call him a masochist, but he loved being used by women, or anything related to women.

After all, other than Zeff and his kitchen staff, women were the only ones emanating with warmth and love when he was just a young boy.

What made Sanji notice the swordsman was, of course, the fight with Mihawk. He didn't know the guy, but there was a pang of guilt, of terror sprouting in his heart the very moment Mihawk sliced across his chest. What did he fear? For this guy to die?

A part of him wanted Zoro to give up his pride. What does a dream matter if you are dead?

He is such an idiot, he thought, who'd rather die with pride intact than continue living for his dreams. But another part of him, secretly tucked away at the depth of his soul, trembled. Much like a tsunami hitting the land. A man who relished in the thin line of life and death, willing to give up everything for his dream. Sanji had never felt so simultaneously terrified and enraptured by somebody before.

The calm waters inside of him stirred, and the dreams he had left behind in hopes of repaying his old man clutched his heart.

With this new feeling in his chest, he knew he had to look for his ocean.

The All Blue.

_Skypiea Arc_

In the heat of the moment, when Zoro grabbed their archaeologist and growled "She's a woman" to Enel, he thought back to the conversation with Sanji a few weeks prior before their ship shot up into the sky.

Their relationship had developed as the roles of the crew solidified, with Sanji attuned to his duties as a chef and Zoro to his duties as a swordsman; and, despite the lack of interaction or conversation they still managed to irritate the hell out of one another. It was almost a daily routine for him. Eat, sleep, workout, fight with the cook, take a nap, and repeat.

Quite honestly, he didn't know what to make out of Sanji. He knew as a nakama and a cook he was reliable, though he would never say these words out loud; but something deeply bothered him about the cook.

He served the ladies on the Going Merry like their personal slave, with their morning coffee, afternoon snacks and teas, and a sweet dessert after dinner. He acted like an idiot around them, fawning over how beautiful they were with his arms swinging around, his eyes in the shape of hearts, but Zoro noticed the distance Sanji placed between himself and others.

He never asked for a single thing, not from the women or the rest of them.

He always did his own thing in the kitchen, day and night, fought with them when marines attacked, fawned over the women and scolded the guys on occasions, but it always seemed like he was alone. When he thought no one was looking, he would glance at the vast sea surrounding them and his eyes would glaze with the images of the past; the blue orbs reflecting the ocean and the deeply seated sadness weighing in his chest.

Zoro always felt it, even when he tried to ignore it.

What Sanji desperately tried to hide, and what others didn't seem to notice about him, the swordsman was able to pick it up effortlessly. He had no explanation for how he was able to do such a thing, nor did he care to find out.

It irritated the shit out of him. He didn't give a shit about why the cook was holding onto such a suffocating amount of sadness; if anything, he wanted to beat the shit out of Sanji and tell him to stop holding back, from his own nakama, his past, his feelings, whatever it was that he was running away from.

"Oi, stop glaring at me like that. What's your problem?" the blond made his way toward him after his afternoon flailing around Robin and Nami.

Zoro wanted to say what was on his mind, but he also knew it wasn't his place. Every one of them had a past that they didn't like talking about.

So instead he just said the next thing on his mind, "You're distracting my training with your annoying mating calls."

Sanji just gave him a shit eating grin that the swordsman wanted to beat out of his face. "Is the little mossy jealous that he's not getting enough attention?" he cooed.

"You fucking wish," he growled, unable to start a physical fight with him due to the heavy weight resting on his shoulders. He felt beads of sweat dripping down his temples, falling onto his chest, which he noticed Sanji was watching rather closely.

Feeling the strain of his muscles and veins popping out of his forearms, with a final huff he rested the weights on the wooden floor and heard the creak below him. He was afraid the Going Merry would give out under the heavy weight, but she remained sturdy like she had always been.

The blond's attention was refocused on the sea, with a cigarette in his mouth and the wisps of smoke floating into the sky.

As Zoro wiped down the sweat off of his face and body with a towel, he was reminded of the conversation from moments ago. "Women are only going to think of you as a slave if you keep on doting on them like that, and they actually hate it when you treat them fragile," he told Sanji, reminded of the females who played pivotal roles in his life.

He couldn't see the difference between men and women, reminded of Kuina beating his ass with a bamboo stick thousands of times.

Sanji was surprised by the sudden comment, as his visible eye widened and his lips parted slightly. He was contemplating whether to lightheartedly shrug it off with a "fuck off" comment or respond seriously to the green haired man, whom he didn't even know had thoughts like these.

"They _are_ physically more fragile than men," he responded, blowing out a wisp of smoke.

Zoro recalled the way Kuina held her chest in her hands and cried about how they would eventually be her downfall as a swordswoman, but he didn't want that to be the reason for beating Kuina. He stubbornly refused to believe that there was a difference in strength between men and women.

"You mean to say they're _weak_," he reworded his words bluntly.

Sanji rolled his eyes, "_No_, you brute. Let me explain this to you and make it simple enough for you to understand. They may be physically weaker than men because that's how we were made biologically, but they aren't _weak_. Women are stronger than us in every other way; emotionally and mentally."

The swordsman frowned because he'd never thought about the differences between men and women so thoroughly, assuming that they were exactly the same.

"But it's true that I just—I have this need to protect them. Like the way they protected me…" he drifted off, his eyes glazed with the memories of his past again.

So that's why Zoro blamed the cook for this sudden feeling of protectiveness over the archaeologist, whom he didn't even consider his nakama yet.

He knew how strong Robin was with her Devil Fruit powers, but the way Enel mercilessly crippled her with his lightning brought a zap of adrenaline into his body.

"She's a woman," he growled, the echo of Sanji's voice in his head.

"I noticed," Enel calmly responded.

_Thriller Bark Arc_

_You shitty swordsman_, _I'm going to kill you if you're not dead already_, he thought as he made his way toward Zoro.

He was limping, the side of his stomach bruised purple and green from the sudden jab from Zoro's sword, and with each step almost every part of his body screamed for him to stop, turn back, and get treated by Chopper. But he kept going, nerves fluttering in his stomach and his heart pounding in his ears.

_You better not be dead, marimo_.

Clutching his wound, he made his way through the forest. It was daylight, with the sun peeking through the leaves and branches. Trees no longer animated to act as human beings as the souls safely returned to their owners after Luffy defeated Moria. He should've been relieved that he wasn't burning under the sun, but that was the furthest thing from what he felt.

He wondered where Kuma took him to and worried that Zoro was no longer on this island, or worse, that he had been respectfully buried already.

"FUCK!" he growled to himself, his voice traveling as an echo deeper into the forest.

How could he have let this happen? How did he not anticipated that the swordsman would knock him out to sacrifice himself?

When Sanji stood in front of Kuma, he was prepared for death. With every bit of strength and resolve left in his body, he recognized his duty in that moment, to lay his life down for not only the lives of others but their dreams also. He thought back to Zoro's tears when he swore to his captain that he would never lose another fight, to all those moments Luffy fought for his nakama and the dreams of others, and brief flashes of all of his nakama's faces when they declared their dreams.

If not for them, his dream to look for All Blue would've been tucked away anyways; and compared to the dreams of others, could he really say his was anywhere near as important?

And Zoro, whose dream was only second to Luffy's, worked tremendously hard every day and night to actualize his dream of becoming the best swordsman. Sanji didn't want him to throw it away, not for him or anybody else.

_He_, on the other hand, actually had nothing to lose or so he believed.

Sanji only felt remorse when he thought of Zeff, his kitchen staff, and the faces of their nakama when he stormed up a buffet for them. In his iron will and resolve, there was a small crack of sadness thinking that he would never see their faces again.

And it was in that one faltering moment that Zoro knocked him out.

The path in front of him led to an open space, and Sanji's legs almost gave out when he saw a standing figure in the middle of the field. He sped up his pace, unable to feel the pain shooting up in his legs or the sting of his clothes rubbing against his wounds anymore. What mattered was reaching Zoro, _making sure _that he was alright with his own eyes.

"Oi! You freaked me out! Where did that shichibukai go?" he asked, relieved to see the man still standing.

But when he reached the scene, his heart sank at the sight of the green haired man covered in blood and the large puddle of blood around him, as though his body had exploded but was hastily put back together.

"Why the hell is there so much blood!? Are you still alive? Where did that guy go? What on earth happened here?" he shouted, and he couldn't help it. All those questions spurted out of him in an anxious tangent, wondering how much he'd suffered in Sanji's and others' stead.

_Fuck_, he cursed again, so much fucking shame coursing through his body for passing out, laying there unconsciously while Zoro went to hell and came back with gritted teeth.

"Nothing...at all…" the swordsman strained to speak, his eyes barely held open.

"Oi, oi," Sanji raced forward as Zoro's body began to tip over, and caught him in his arms.

The green haired man fell into a deep state of unconsciousness, the last fiber of restraint breaking as he was relieved that a nakama was next to him. The cook felt Zoro's mostly dried up blood, ripped up shirt, and hard muscles in his hands.

"You idiot," he muttered as tears began to well up in his eyes.

He was relieved to find Zoro alive, more so than he would've ever thought; and the sort of emotions surging inside of him was different than when Mihawk sliced across his chest. He knew it wasn't for _him_ specifically, but the swordsman sacrificed himself and his dream for every member of the crew including Sanji.

"Eup," he uttered as he hoisted the swordsman's body on his back, legs wrapped around his waist and head fallen in between the corner of his neck.

Despite the amount of blood he'd lost, he was still warm, pressed up against the back of Sanji's body.

He felt Zoro's heartbeat, slow and steady; the sign of life. The same as when he pressed his hand on his chest to remind himself that he was still alive, during the time his body was consuming the remaining fat stored left inside his body and Zeff was eating his own leg to survive on the other side of the rock.

By the time he'd reached the crew with Zoro on his back, Chopper was on his feet treating everybody. Luffy was, despite the critical blows he'd received the night prior, was jumping around. Then Sanji heard the rest of the story from the two men who'd seen it all from their hiding space, about how Zoro took the pain of their captain, that even a small dosage of the bubble he'd received from Kuma had him quavering with an unbelievable amount of pain.

Sanji strolled off from his nakama for a few minutes after listening to the story, with a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Wandering aimlessly, he reached the edge of the island where he had a clear vision of the sea in front of him. Though he was born on land, it was at sea, where he was raised, that he felt at home.

The shame, guilt, and self hatred was a consequence of his lack of resolve.

If it came down to it, he wasn't sure if he could eat his own legs, dive into a massive bubble of unbearable pain, or grasp the thread of life if death stood in front of him. And what about his All Blue? Clearly his resolve to find this idealistic sea was weaker than his captain's will to become the Pirate King or Zoro's to beat Mihawk.

Sanji was the sort of person whose past attached to him, like a tree with its memories as soil.

His resolve to feed anybody who's hungry came from his traumatizing memories of starvation. His desire to cook for others came from his mother's smile. Smoking was his act of rebellion against Zeff and fighting abilities was from being bullied by his brothers; or, it is more correct to say that they've fueled his anger enough for him to pass his physical limits.

But All Blue was…it was...what was it?

His chance at happiness? Escape? Notion of freedom? Didn't he already have all of that?

What drew him to his dream, unlike any other parts of himself, had no attachment to the past. Similar to the effects the sea had on him, All Blue was a desire, with no reason at all for why he wanted it so badly. It simply lured him in.

The smoke curled out of his tongue and dissolved into the soon to be night air, as the sun was beginning to fall.

_I better make my way back_, he thought, wondering for a flickering second whether Zoro woke up yet.

_I have to cook a feast for my nakama. _

A few days later, the crew was packed up to leave the dreadful zombie island which had nothing for him except for one beautiful lady named Perona. Luffy invited another weird 'person' to the crew, a tall skeleton with an afro as if a talking reindeer and human robot wasn't already strange enough. Despite Brook's eccentric personality and behavior, which was understandable as he hadn't had any social interaction for fifty years, he actually had a lot in common with Sanji: their love for women and lewd behaviors, in addition to their love for the arts, if cooking can be considered an art.

For a few nights, the cook noticed a shift of behavior in the swordsman.

Typically, Zoro would take a bottle of sake to the crow's nest and spend the night alone, but recently he'd been keeping Sanji company until he finished his nightly chores.

They hadn't had the chance to talk about what happened in Thriller Park, partly because Sanji didn't know what to say about the incident. He had kept Zoro's sacrifice as a secret from the rest of the crew, as he understood the man's prideful nature (a quality they both shared), though there was a part of him that wanted to mention, what he considered, the elephant in the room.

But every time he tried, there seemed to be a lump caught in his throat. He'd never felt like this before, especially with the green haired man.

Tonight, Zoro was sitting behind him with a glass of sake in his hand. A typical alcoholic in his natural habitat. A comfortable silence lingered between them, only the sound of the running water as Sanji was cleaning the dishes.

"Oi, cook," he broke the silence, his voice gentler than it usually is when referring to Sanji. "Have a drink with me after."

Sanji stopped midtrack of washing the dishes, caught by the unexpected invitation. This was definitely something new. But he was able to maintain his cool and quickly come up with a response that wouldn't give away his surprise.

"I have to get up early in the morning," he replied with a monotonous voice.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, a few won't hurt," the swordsman insisted, which was another strange, out of the ordinary behavior for Zoro. It aroused Sanji's curiosity enough for him agree, but of course he wasn't going to say it verbally.

He just gave an acknowledging grunt, and he thought about how he was becoming more and more like Zeff every day.

Finishing up the rest of the dishes, locking up the refrigerator from his captain, and meal prepping for the next day, Sanji was finally able to dry his hands and sit across from Zoro who handed him a sake cup.

It was all too strange how civil it seemed between them.

Sanji downed the cup of sake and felt the familiar burn down his throat. A different type of burn from taking a heavy pull of his cigarettes. He wasn't much of a drinker; in fact, he was quite the lightweight.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of the swordsman's, Sanji felt discomfort in the pit of his stomach, the lump in his throat urging him to swallow a ball of saliva.

"Do you…" he broke the silence that no longer felt comfortable, "want any food with this?"

He couldn't help it. He was a chef, goddammit; and food felt like the solution for everything.

The swordsman disregarded him with a slight shake of his head, fondling the white sake glass with his fingers. It was an unusual sight to see a pensive look on his face. Sanji didn't even know this dunce was capable of thinking—only sleeping, drinking, fighting, and getting lost!

"I was prepared to die that day," Zoro admitted to him, in a voice that suggested that this was a big secret, something he had been wanting to say. "I thought that paw guy was going to take my life instead of Luffy's."

The blond had a way with words, a natural conversationalist, but this time he found himself with a dry mouth and an empty head.

"I know," he assured Zoro.

He didn't know how to react, this was all too strange and new for him. Was he about to have a heart to heart with the marimo? Who would've thought.

"I wasn't scared of death, I never was," a confession that Sanji already knew about him already, seeing how he almost cut his ankles off to survive and recklessly stood in front of Mihawk's sword to be cleaved in half. "But I was scared when you stood there in front of me," he told him earnestly, his gaze unwavering and piercing into Sanji's blue eyes.

"You were scared that I was going to die?" he asked, half teasing, half serious. His heart was thumping in his ears.

Zoro grunted, "You are such a pain in the ass, standing in front of me when you could hardly stand, much less breathe. It's like you always want to be the knight in shining armor, like when you saved us in Alabasta as 'Prince', but I felt it—how much you didn't want to die. You didn't want to give up cooking for your nakama or your All Blue, but you were in front of me anyways. Why?"

There was an itch in his throat, which indicated that it was time for a cigarette.

With ease, he placed a cigarette in his mouth and flicked the lighter in front of him. A familiar motion, all done in steps of 1-2-3, and he blew out the smoke facing the ceiling.

"Isn't the answer obvious?" his tone serious now, a sudden shift in mood. This was no longer the Zoro he interacted with during the day, limited to exchanges filled with insults and teases. "You're my nakama, I would've done it for anybody in our crew."

Zoro furrowed his brows, a habit he had whenever he was in the middle of a battle or felt some sort of displeasure with the situation.

"Bullshit, cook." Before Sanji had the chance to protest, the swordsman cut him off to further explain himself. "You are so eager to throw your life and dream away that you would do it for _anybody_, not just your nakama."

Annoyed by the sudden accusations and the condescending tone of voice Zoro carried with him, the cook bit down on the butt of his cigarette.

"What do _you_ know," hint of venom flowing freely out of his words.

Why did Zoro get under his skin so easily? As though there was a pool of emotions inside of him that only the swordsman could tap into; and for the life of him, couldn't get rid of the damn moss no matter how hard he tried.

With conviction, similar to how he forfeited his life to Kuma, he declared, "If my life is all that is needed to preserve the dreams of others, then I'll _gladly_ offer it up.

"Then what about _your_ dream, you fucking idiot!" the green haired man roared as he grabbed Sanji by the shirt, balling up the cotton fabric in his fist. He stood from his seat and pulled the blond closer to him. Their breaths mingled. The cigarette dropped to the table from the sudden shock of being pulled, the small cups of sake spilling and wetting his pants.

"What about _All Blue_," the swordsman asked, residue of anger in his voice but slightly gentler—so slight that no one but Sanji would notice the change.

The blond was thoroughly taken away by the emotions pouring out of Zoro, his eyes piercing into him with depth he'd never seen before. It was similar to being cradled by the earth, in contrast to the sea that he loved so much.

"I—" Sanji began, voice cracking, the lump in his throat bobbing up and down with his Adam's apple.

It was always difficult for him to open up to others, especially about matters involving his heart. Aside from his history with Zeff, his nakama did not know a thing about his past. Every one of them had a difficult history of their own and didn't divulge much about each others' pasts. So the stories about his real family and the abuse he underwent were buried deep inside of him; and as much as he hated it, those parts of his past also became nutrients for who he is now. Perhaps that's why he always kept to himself.

"I don't want All Blue if it means you or Luffy, or any of our nakama isn't there to see it with me," the cook confessed, his head cooling down rapidly as though someone poured cold water over his hot head.

The hold the swordsman had on him loosened, and he slumped back down on his seat with a heavy _umf_. Zoro, that is. Sanji believed he had more grace than the man in front of him.

"What a waste," Zoro referred to the sake that spilled all over the table, a sentiment Sanji could agree with.

The blond picked up the barely smoked cigarette from the puddle of booze, and the slight weight of his finger broke it in half. "Damn," he cursed, saddened by the broken cigarette, his spirit completely sapped by their conversation.

Zoro poured himself and Sanji another drink, which he accepted for some reason and they both downed it without another word.

After three or four cups, the blond felt the alcohol in his system starting to tinge his cheeks with what he knew was going to be a bright reddish hue resembling the rise of the sun at dawn. The spilled alcohol had evaporated rather quickly, and so his pants, the cigarette, and the table began to dry up. All in that order. The swordsman swished down cup after cup without any sign of getting drunk

_I really should be going to bed_, but he had no desire to stand.

"I felt relieved when you were there," the swordsman told the drunken cook who struggled to wriggle out another cigarette from his pocket.

The first image that came across his mind was Zoro in the middle of a field, with his blood sprayed around him.

"I was prepared for death. I was ready to handle the burden all alone. Then, all of a sudden, you were staggering there in front of me, ready to protect me," he recalled the scene, unfolding it from his perspective. "All of us are willing to lay our lives for one another, I know that, but that was the first time I thought you would die if I didn't do something about it."

Despite his inebriated senses, the blond was able to lucidly understand what Zoro was trying to tell him. He felt the same way when he woke up and was weaving his way through the forest.

But what came out of his mouth was, "You fuggin' mosshead," in a sluggish tone.

His head and chest were pounding erratically, and his naturally ivory skin was beginning to be flushed bright red.

"_Heh_?!" the swordsman voiced, clearly irritated for his sentiment to be tossed away like that, and if they weren't in the kitchen he might've swung his blade at Sanji.

The blond managed to place the cigarette in between his teeth, staring up at Zoro with a small grin on his face. "I'm not gonna die, you idiot, I'm stronger than you," he chuckled, a flick of his lighter in front of the cigarette.

Taken aback, the green haired man flinched before regaining his sense of composure. The rhythm of their relationship back in motion. The jibes, the playfulness, and always the fucking insults that usually led to a fight.

With that rare smile of his, Zoro leaned back and responded, "In your dreams, cook, maybe if you trained for a million more years."

"Eat shit," was the natural thing to say.

_Momoiro Island_

Those fucking okamas.

"_Sanji-kun_— " one of them called after him in a cracked tone of voice, for speaking in a higher tone than a man was naturally allowed to; and the blond felt a violent shudder coursing throughout his body.

_I hate men, I hate men, I hate men_… a mantra repetitively ringing in his mind.

What did he do to deserve this? For two years he had to endure this, terrified by the possibility of being caught.

They already put him inside of a dress, to emphasize his 'feminine qualities', but that was fucking bullshit. Sanji was a _man_ with only masculine qualities. He had no interest in being a woman or attaining their feminine attributes; he only wanted to bury himself into the soft curves of a woman and be a scum of a man that he was meant to be.

Speaking of which, they even accused him of being interested in other men, or 'boys' as they called it.

"We can sniff those things out from a mile away Sanji-kewn— "

"You're a maiden in love!"

"Our womanly instincts are always accurate."

He was in the middle of a run, as fast as his feet allowed him. He felt his chest tighten and his lungs constricting, feeling as though a thousand needles were prickling him. Yet, he still had enough energy to shout behind him: "I AM NOT GAY!"

"So defensive!" they giggled simultaneously.

_I love women, I love women, I love women… _he told himself for those two hellish years, his only sanity residing inside of his dreams.

A woman's bedroom of pink wallpapers and silky white curtains; he could smell the flowery aroma wafting over to where he stood by the door. _Ah_, could this be the night he lays with a beautiful maiden? he thought with a lewd grin. There was a small chuckle from behind those curtains.

The cook began to swing his left leg in front of his right, then his right in front of his left. Small steps toward the bed, with a mysterious woman behind those curtains waiting to be ravished.

_This is it_, he thought, swallowing his saliva.

"Here I go, _mellorine~!_" he shouted before diving between those white curtains and landing with a soft thud on the soft, bouncy mattress and a mass of flesh that was naked to touch.

"My… lady?"

Tanned and muscular body, gold earrings, and short green hair.

Another chuckle, "I didn't know you wanted me so badly, ero cook." The swordsman who laid beside him did not have a single piece of fabric to cover…

"_Gah!" _he screamed out in terror, jumping out of his pink sheets.

_Kuraigana Island_

A few things began to clear up for Zoro as he spent his time with a tasteless swordsman and a squawking woman for those two years.

As a swordsman, he realized he was still a mountainous levels away from beating MIhawk; that perhaps the paw guy who made them disappear on Sabaody island had actually saved them; and that he might be in love with the idiot cook.

It wasn't a sudden revelation as one would like to believe, rather, it was a single thought that multiplied into many and began to take shape. Similar to a tumor.

It began with thinking about each and every member of his nakama, imagining where they were and what they were doing; then, when it was time to think about the cook, he recalled the last time he saw his face. A look of helplessness, one he had never seen on Sanji's face before. Before Kuma's palms hovered over Zoro, he wondered what thoughts were running through the cook's mind.

It tugged his heart in a strange way, to think about Sanji. He wasn't worried about him per say, because he knew that every member of his crew were strong enough to fend for themselves. This was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

"YOU IDIOT!" the squawking woman scolded him with a wave of her forefinger, floating over to him with a medical box in hand. "Why did you fight Mihawk's monkey again! You just healed from your wound, and you _know _you can't beat him yet!" Despite the incessant noise that was her high pitched voice, she was constantly fixing him up. Applying antibacterial medicine and wrapping him up with bandages.

The swordsman instinctively pulled back the muscles of his face.

He was used to her nagging, but he couldn't get used to the sound of her voice; and over the months, he realized that there was no point in arguing with the pink haired girl whose actions were completely opposite of whatever came out of her mouth.

"I can't believe I'm even doing this for you, and that stupid old man is sitting in his chair drinking wine and talking on the den den mushi. He doesn't even have friends! Who is he talking to?" she continued her monologue about the brutes she had to live with and spent a fair amount of time glorifying Moria, the fat vampire Luffy defeated in Thriller Park.

"Oi," the swordsman broke her speech, in the midst of her talking about her servant bear and other servant zombies. "What does it mean when your chest starts to act up when you think about someone?" He didn't have Chopper around, so she was the closest thing to a medic who could answer this sort of question.

She narrowed her eyes, "Isn't it obvious?"

Zoro's eyebrows twitched. Was he dying or something?

The pink haired woman sighed, "I can't believe I'm living with an idiot who doesn't even know what love is."

"Lo-love?" the swordsman sputtered. If he had been drinking, he would've surely spat it up. "What are you talking about, I'm not in love," he protested, feeling his cheeks warming up in embarrassment.

"Yes you are!" she argued. "If your chest acts up when you're thinking about someone, that's the first sign. Then you start to think about them a lot, miss their presence, and you will eventually want to hold them. It's all signs of being in love!"

Zoro was flustered. He didn't have anything to say. He could neither deny or accept her accusations.

As time passed by, he found himself beginning to miss various things about the cook. His food for one, because Perona's cooking tasted like rotten flesh and MIhawk's cooking was done with too much wine. He was craving his afternoon snacks of rice balls and his midnight sake. He didn't realize how spoiled he was. And a few months later, when he finally beat Mihawk's monkey he compared the peak of his elation to his fights with the cook, and he found himself missing them too.

The pointless bantering, crossing of steel legs and swords, and the scent of the damn cook when he leered at him closely.

Of course he missed his time with the rest of his crew and the life on Sunny, but it was the thought of Sanji that made him leave for Sabaody early.

_You will eventually want to hold them_, Perona's distinctive voice warning him buried itself inside of his head.

But not now, Zoro thought.

He didn't want to hold the cook. He wasn't worried about ruining their nakamahood or their current state of things in Sunny, but the sole fact that he had no desire to do anything physical with the cook—hold, kiss, fuck, or anything along those lines. For now, it was enough to let things be. For them to argue and fight, for Sanji to act like an absolute idiot around women, for Zoro to click his tongue in mild disdain, and for them to focus on their dreams...

After all, love wasn't an act of possession but freedom, and it was all in accordance to fate to decide for what would become of them.

"A dream is a mere dream without the man's resolve to make it a reality, but fate and the heaven's will is something outside of man's control," were some of the last words Mihawk told him.

_Cacao Island/Whole Cake Island (Zoro)_

"You're probably all worried about Sanji! Aren'tcha?" his captain asked with a grin on his face, finding his first mate sitting right outside the door.

"Don't make me kick your ass. I told you to leave that idiot alone," he grumbled, wondering how the fuck Luffy could read his mind so effortlessly. Without a doubt, the raven haired man had the best instincts out of the three of them, and Zoro would not be surprised if he'd also managed to pick up on his hidden feelings toward Sanji.

"Shi shi shi," his captain laughed.

_That idiot sacrificed himself for us again_.

He wasn't surprised, but perhaps he was 'worried' as his captain suggested.

Sanji's prideful and sacrificial nature made this situation a perfect opportunity to throw himself away to save others. The cook's a damn reliable nakama, strong too, especially after those two years apart, but nonetheless he alone isn't enough against a yonko and her entire crew. Zoro was worried that he would reject any helping hand reaching for him, using whatever excuse he could muster up to preserve that annoying nature of his.

_And knowing that idiot, he's probably all lovey dovey in this marriage. _

"Zoro," Luffy interrupted his train of thoughts with a confident smile on his face. "Don't worry, I will never lose him. I'll make sure to bring him back to us." He emitted the same aura as he always did when making a promise.

A smile cracked in that stoic expression of his, ridiculing even the idea of losing their cook.

"I'll leave him to you, captain."

_Cacao Island/Whole Cake Island (Sanji)_

Was it foolish to believe that in the midst of the shit storm he was in, being kidnapped by his family who had abused him in his early childhood and forcefully married off to a daughter of Big Mom, that there might be light? Some sort of hope to grasp?

He wanted to believe that Pudding was the light of his life, his soulmate, his fated lover who could help him ease the pain and guilt of leaving his crew.

_Fuck…_

The rain was pouring down on him, so harshly that it felt like pellets against his skin. He kept flicking his golden lighter with his thumb, a habit he had whenever he felt like shit. Desperately trying to get a pull out of his cigarette. And god, he had never needed one so badly before.

Instead of the light he'd hoped for, tears began to fall instead, blending and becoming one with the rain drops falling so heavy and fast out of the sky.

Was he heartbroken? Of course he was. For a brief moment, he did fall in love with Pudding, or at least the idea of her. He'd done the whole skit inside of his head of settling down with the brown haired, chocolate making, sweet as sugar Pudding. Every ounce of him wanted it to be true.

He was a pervert, yes, but even more so he was a romantic.

As stupid as it sounded, he wanted his first time to be with someone he loved deeply and he thought, hoped, that Pudding was the 'one'. Just like he did with Violet and Nami, the list going all the way back to the moment he hit puberty.

So why did he cry when he stood outside of Pudding's window? He wasn't fooled by her act; no, of course not. He was a fool for women, but he wasn't a total idiot. He gave her a fitty fitty possibility that she was using him, that she was actually working for Big Mom and her charm was something she wore to fool others. It was something he felt, to the core of his being.

He is an optimist and he especially can't think straight around beautiful women, but his instincts are as strong as marimo's or his captain's. He could see through a woman's mask, straight to her heart.

The reason he cried though, despite knowing that Pudding's goodhearted nature, was because she saw_ it_—for the first time, someone else saw him as the pathetic loser he saw himself as. The way his family ingrained _it_ into the core of his identity. The root of the tree buried beneath the ground, branches sprawling out with _it_ as its base.

He didn't hate Pudding. He didn't mind marrying her, or even being killed by her if it meant she would live a happier life. In _that _way he was stupid for women. Even at the cost of his life, he would do anything for their happiness.

Except now, he was able to think straight, with the illusion of her shattered into almost invisible pieces.

He saw the reality of his situation. His family, Big Mom, and Luffy.

Sanji desperately wanted to return to his crew, more so after his heartbreak but he was ashamed, guilty. He had his reasons for why he left. For Zeff, for his crew, for their dreams...

_What about All Blue!?_ the swordsman's voice shouted over and over inside his head, like a fucking mantra or a buzzingmosquito. _What about your dream, you fucking idiot!_

_Shut up, you damn marimo_, he responded inside of his head. _I made up my mind. This is my fate._

_Fate is outside of your own volition. It's not something you can control_, the voice told him and Sanji stayed silent this time.

Sanji didn't _want_ to be saved. He wasn't a goddamn damsel in distress, dammit! He didn't want to hinder his nakama from their goal of defeating Kaido, or be the reason for the death of his family in Baratie. And he definitely did not want them getting involved with the messy past of his that should've been buried a long time ago.

_Idiot, just trust your fucking nakama. Luffy is going to be the King of Pirates_, the marimo's voice advised him in that condescending tone of his.

Even in his own imagination, he managed to tick Sanji off.

But for once in his life, he decided to face _it_—the guilt, the shame, the constant reminders in his head that he was nothing but a pathetic loser, the painful emotions that his family had inflicted inside of him; the suffocating demon he had locked away deep inside of him.

_Shithead, I'm not going to die nor am I going to let anybody else die_.

Images of Zeff, Baratie kitchen staff, and his nakama were floating in his head.

_Good, I'll see you in Wano then._

* * *

**AN**: There's also the part in Punk Hazard when Sanji's like "Zoro surprisingly has a soft side" that I left out from this story. I think that also becomes a nice evidential piece for how their relationship deliciously developed after the timeskip.

Anyways, I am thinking the next part of the story should be completely up to my imagination since I've caught up to Oda's story as of current. Let me know what you guys think! There's a reason why I left room for more with that M rating ;)

For now, I'm going to go back to working on 'Karma'! Let me know how you liked this oneshot!


End file.
